


Beyond the Dune Sea

by nyagosstar



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope is not quite the worst thing, but it's close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Dune Sea

**Author's Note:**

> There was a time in my fandom life when I wrote an aboslute boat load of SW fic. I wanted to fix the damage done by the prequels to the image of Star Wars I had in my mind. When I got out of Episode III, though, all I could see was how the progression--as much as I hated how it played out--led to the Farmboy, the Princess and the Rouge saving the universe.
> 
> And also that Obi-Wan's life totally, totally sucks.

To say that the desert is hot is to say that I have erred. Both statements are true, but they do not begin to contain the scope of their respective truths.

The suns bake the land, burning away everything that isn’t built to survive here. Fierce winds drive uncaring sand, scour uncovered flesh. It is a harsh place, it burns away pride and false precepts. It brings clarity and sharpens grief.

I hide away, waiting for the right time, waiting for the boy to grow. It is our hope that he will be better than his father, that he can make right what we have let fall so carelessly through our fingers. But it is a distant and selfish hope to place this legacy at the feet of an unsuspecting child.

Guardians of the Galaxy, they called us. If I let myself, I can lose myself in mad laughter forever. We were so blind, so arrogant. We made so many mistakes, I can make myself sick with it. Here, in the desert, there is little else to occupy my time.

I struggle with Yoda’s task.

When we parted, the mention of Qui-Gon and the promise that he could speak from beyond death was, it was a warm cloak on a cold night, a warm meal after a long journey. It gave me hope as everything was falling apart around us. I have never seen Yoda so defeated and it still shakes me.

In the beginning, it was a hope that kept me going. Now it is a battle and a curse.

Will today be yet another day Qui-Gon punishes me for my failure? Will he again refuse to speak with me, seeing how terribly I have treated his legacy? Or will he appear today, cursing my name and his training, which I have failed so spectacularly. After he died, I missed him so fiercely, I wanted his guidance so desperately, if he did not speak with me before when my need was great and his legacy still untarnished, what hope do I have that he will come now?

My hope, one of the few left to me, is that today he will speak and grant his forgiveness. It is too much for me to forgive myself.

In some respects, I am relieved that he died at the start of things. For all his rebellious ways, Qui-Gon loved the Republic, he spent his life defending it and I think it would have broken him to see what we have done with it. It is not a conversation I am looking forward to, if he ever deigns to speak with me

I have few visitors. Too many of the early ones, the ones who struggle to keep a community here in this barren place, saw me talking to mid-air, or cursing at the sky. They believe me mad, and I don’t know that I would argue with them. Regret, recrimination, and grief beat down upon me like the unrelenting sun. I’m not sure what that does to a man’s sanity.

He was my padawan, my brother, my friend. 

He valued life. And I watched him kill children. Padawans who trusted him, and it leaves me shuddering and heaving to this day.

We stood by each other when no one else believed in us. He saved my life time after time. He saved it. And I couldn’t give him the mercy of a clean death. I’ve damned us all.

So I wait in the desert, where it all began. I wait for another boy to grow into his power and hope that the son is stronger than the father. Are we building hope on a broken foundation? Most likely, but there is nothing left for us. Only his child can defeat him.

It is a heavy burden to lay at the feet of someone so young, and it is a long time to wait in the hope of justice. But here in the desert, beyond the Dune Sea, there is nothing else to be done. For to lose all hope is to truly go mad.


End file.
